The Great Escapade
by Aria Breuer
Summary: "Anything?" As an elderly man about his height, wearing a rather long blue hat, white shirt and a blue jumper, complete with brown leather boots. This man trimmed his flower garden, but... wait. Did this man just read his mind? "Who are you?" Frodo asked him, curious. "What are you?" "I am a garden gnome." The elderly man - eh, gnome answered. "This is my garden."


**The Great Escapade**

 **By: Aria Breuer**

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 **Disclaimers:** I do not own _The Lord of the Rings_. J.R.R. Tolkien does. The East Farthing Wood may have come from "The Hobbit" and "The Lord of the Rings" movies.

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With this particular piece, I began writing on mobile and then worked on the main body of the story on computer. Here is the end result.

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Frodo Baggins had nothing better to do this morning. He got up, got dressed, and as he ate breakfast, the strangest thought occurred to him: why not go through a walk in East Farthing Wood. Not for anything too bad, but maybe to see the flowers? It seemed like that right time for it. Spring was on the horizon and already the flowers were coming out first, before the leaves popped out and changed from yellow to green. Quietly, he resorted to combing his thick, curly brown hair one more time before setting out.

His hair was likely to get wind blown anyway. But he combed it for the heck of it.

As he left Bag End, wandering down Bagshot Row, the strangest scent crossed his path. It was lavender... or so he thought it was lavender, but a very elegant scent it was. He wouldn't downcast it by any means, but the scent was so strong that he soon found himself crossing into Bywater's Lake and collapsing into its deep clear waters...

...

Was he dead? He couldn't have imagined collapsing into a large lake any sign of waking up. He couldn't take this. He had to breathe. He had to see. His blue eyes opened underwater. He was alive. Alive and well... and able to swim. Good. He must have passed out for a few seconds. Well, that wasn't good, but at least the important thing he was, he was alive and dog paddling to the surface.

But lo! this wasn't the Shire. This was a different place. Filled with cherry blossoms in the shades of pinks, reds, and whites. The wind blew across his drenched hair, and yet it was a sweet smell that drew him towards shore. The smell of strawberries, apples, peaches and plums. He wanted to taste them all, take in their different fragrance and sweet tart flavors. But that wasn't the only thing he wanted to do, as he climbed up on the bank and dried himself off, wringing out his shirt and knee breeches. He wanted to see what those numerous white painted cottages were, with their tan roofs and fresh smelling gardens, with a mixture of roses, tulips, geraniums, myrtles, and primrose flowers nestled in front of these houses.

Primroses? A tear threatened to leave his eyelid. Yes, his mother's name was Primula Baggins. He missed her so dearly. His father Drogo... well, he thought differently. He and his father got along well, but his father had an aptitude for eating all sorts of food. He missed him, too, more out of respect. He missed them both. He would do anything to have them back...

"Anything?" As an elderly man about his height, wearing a rather long blue hat, white shirt and a blue jumper, complete with brown leather boots. This man trimmed his flower garden, but... wait. Did this man just read his mind?

"Who are you?" Frodo asked him, curious. "What are you?"

"I am a garden gnome." The elderly man - eh, gnome answered. "This is my garden. You're welcome to drop in. I've made apple pie."

The gentle-hobbit just stood there, staring for a few moments. What should he do? He was in a strange land, no idea how to get home, and already this gnome was offering him food? Should he trust him? He certainly didn't want to cause a ruckus. But then -

"Are you coming inside, lad? You'll catch a cold. Plus, I may have clean clothes for you," the gnome stated, opening the door. "Come on, son. We won't hurt you."

"We?" Frodo asked, confused.

"The other gnomes and myself. We're a tight community," the gnome said with poise. He gestured forward. "Come on, lad. You'll catch your death out here in your state." Frodo had no choice now, did he? He wish he did. But then, who knew what would happen in this place. Slowly, he followed the gnome indoors, where he closed the door and locked it good and tight. "Help yourself. The guest bedroom's two doors down the left. There you are."

Frodo followed the gnome's instruction. There was indeed a bedroom fit for a hobbit, complete with a polished oak dresser, a full sized bed with a dark oak frame draped in floral etchings, and windows that were rounded and barred by oak bars. Then it was true. He was trapped like a rat inside a gnome's home. Could he escape? He tested the bars. No. They wouldn't budge. He searched every nook and cranny he could find. There weren't any holes, except for mouse holes. It was true then. He was trapped, with no escape. Oh, what could he do now?

"Are you decent yet?" The gnome announced, concern in his voice.

"I'll be out in a minute!" Frodo cried.

"Well, hurry up. I want to get this pie ready," the gnome said in frustration.

Great! Frodo had a minute to figure out what to do. He search through the dresser for any sign of clothes. There were: a deep blue dress shirt and blue knee-breeches. He tried them on to see if they fit... they did and they were clean. He felt better now, but not clean enough. Maybe he would try the bath later... no. He needed to think of home. Not go about stuck in this realm, wherever he was. He sighed. Well, there was no denying he was stuck... he gathered his wits and headed out into the kitchen and dining room. The gnome smelled the air right away.

"You smell like lake water. You didn't take a bath, did you?" The gnome asked, annoyed.

"What?" Frodo asked, a little alarmed. Was he supposed to - no. The gnome was laughing. Whatever for?

"I'm just kidding, lad. You can try out the bath later," the gnome said, gesturing to the dining room table. "Sit. I'll have the pie out soon enough."

Frodo sat down, half-expecting to be kept a prisoner in this place. This house. He really wanted to go home. But then the fresh caramel scent whiffed into his nostrils. Before him a decadent slice of apple pie, nestled on a glass plate with pink flowers painted along the edges. He wanted to be suspicious, but his stomach got the better of him. He tasted the cooked apple and the crisp dough crust. It was enough to make him stay here.

"You can't stay here," the gnome said, certainty in his words.

"I what?" Frodo asked, between bites. "What do you mean 'I can't stay'?"

"This world, it isn't your home." The gnome answered, curtly. "Before you got here, what was your first thought?"

"It was morning. I wanted to smell the roses," Frodo said, hardly understanding where this conversation was heading.

"Yes, but underneath those thoughts, there was something deeper. Something you long for. A dream, maybe, for dreams are your only way out of this world," the gnome addressed him with candor and ease.

"But I was so interested, so desperate, in smelling the flowers," Frodo answered, bewilderment nearly catching his words. "I'm sorry, sir, but where is this conversation headed? I don't understand..."

"Few do," the gnome answered, easing into the point of his discussion, "but that is why you have come. To smell the roses. Well, you may do so in our garden path. Our flowers are many here. If that is your spring dream, your first desire, then by all means, do so after you've eaten my pie and taken a bath. We can't have you smelling like lake and river water, when all your desire is to 'smell the roses', as you put it." He stood up, moving towards the window. "Ah. It's going to be a beautiful day out today. I just know it is."

"Thank you for having me as your guest. I thought I was trapped her. I thought would end up your prisoner," Frodo inquired, his voice breaking a little.

"No need for that, lad. No worries here. This is the Spring Land, after all. Take your time. The world isn't shifting here," the gnome said, his words calm. "You'll be back home soon. Back in your world, you know."

"I do know. Thank you," Frodo said, digging in his food some more.

The gnome turned to him, a soft smile curling his lips. "You are most welcome, sir. Enjoy your apple pie. Your bath is waiting for you, when you're ready."

"Yes, I know," he said, grateful to be treated as a guest instead of a prisoner. He would enjoy that bath most. Indeed, he would. For now, this apple pie was good. No questions there.

...

Frodo left as soon as he washed and changed into another set of clean clothes. He felt much better, _loads_ better than he had in years. "It must be this place." He said with a sigh. Indeed, he felt so peaceful, he wanted to sleep underneath a willow tree or scamper about the area with a bunch of frisky squirrels. Or even as far as play with the rabbits and the foxes. This was Spring Land, after all, as the garden gnome pointed out and next to the tall, thick toadstools that engulfed this realm, already Frodo felt much happier than he had in years. There were cherry blossoms here, flowering pear trees there, and so many wildflowers... he could have only wished up this place in order for it to be real, let alone true.

Still, he found himself wandering about the realm with ease. Time didn't seem to speed up nor wind down long enough for one to be too tired. Already, he found himself more at home here than anywhere else. He dearly loved to stay, but as he neared the forest, there was a trembling fear that lingered in his heart. For the lone flowering tree, with its pink and white flowers, stood alone next to a golden light that shone down upon it. He felt sorry for this tree. He wanted to be close to it, to feel its warmth, to hear its story. He inched closer to this tree, right as a crowd of gnomes parleyed behind him. He gazed back at them, but they didn't move. Nor did they speak. When he moved closer to the tree, they chose then to complain and screech awful things. Just what was wrong with the tree?

"Frodo!" the same garden gnome got his attention. Frodo gasped. Had the gnome said his name? How did he know?

"How do you know my name? I never said anything," Frodo spoke, hotly.

"That tree has unlimited powers. It's our most sacred tree," the garden gnome answered, serious. "If you touch it, you too will have a purpose here and elsewhere. The worlds will open up for you. You can be anywhere you like. Anywhere at all, unto Eru Iluvatar and whatever choice he decides for you to take, what road for you to take." He added, plainly, "It is your decision, but I warn you, you will not come back from this place the same hobbit you were. It's up to you. But choose wisely."

Frodo returned his gaze to the tree. It was calling him. He had to take it. He sighed, knowing which path he would choose. "I choose this tree. I mean, what's going to happen if I-" It was too late. He had touched the tree, felt its smooth bark turn rough and a voice inside his head... it was Eru Iluvatar himself, calling to him... telling him what path he would take in the future...

 _There are many routes for you to choose,_  
 _The path is now open to you._  
 _Your decision is now unfolded,_  
 _For it is your quest that I will pay extra attention to..._

 _Frodo, awaken..._

...

Frodo's head was spinning. He recalled lying underneath a cherry blossom tree, staring at Iluvatar. He was there, watching over him. And Frodo was also out in the opening, next to a whole bunch of cherry blossoms. How he wandered there, he did not recall, but sleep was growing near...

And so he slept, dreaming of home. Dreaming of his friends and his family. The fragrance from the flowers, as well as the fresh fruits, melted away. And here he was, his nostrils taking in a new smell. It was that of green leaves and a warm, spring breeze. He opened his eyes now. He knew which forest he was in with its thick tree trunks and green blades of grass. He was home again, inside East Farthing Wood. He had been sleeping, dreaming of spring and the realm where spring lay, waiting for him to visit, whenever he so choose. For now, he was happy to be home again and home was all that mattered to him, at least for this moment of time.

As he wandered home, he could swiftly see the flowers taking bloom. Spring had arrived in the Shire at last. And here was where he wanted to be, for however long spring lasted across Middle-earth.

 **The End.**

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So, how was that? Lovely spring story that just popped into my head today and took root, hence the pun. I say even the ending turned out all right as well. Thanks for reading. :)


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